


Allerdale Hall

by ughiguess



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: F/M, Prequel, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:48:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ughiguess/pseuds/ughiguess
Summary: What happened when Thomas Sharpe went to retrieve Lucille from her asylum in Switzerland?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've had on my computer for a while now. I thought about posting it just to get some feedback to see if I should continue with the story. Maybe I will, maybe not.

A pale gray sky and snow-capped peaks reflected in Thomas Sharpe's bright blue eyes as he stood on the narrow ledge between two carriages on a train lurching its way through the Swiss Alps. He had been on this train for what felt like weeks, every day different scenery outside, the same interchangeable people within. There were the porters, ticket men, gentlemen, business men in their best suits; and then there were the women. Countesses, governesses, maiden aunts, and of course their charges, young, newly out girls who were all but being thrown at him in the hopes that a sudden jerk of the carriage would send them into his waiting arms for keeps.

 

But Thomas Sharpe had no interest in these women. The one he wanted was at the end of the line. He was so close now, he could think of nothing but her face. He wondered how she'd grown, how she smiled, if she smiled. He wondered if he would recognize her and then thought himself a fool, of course he would. She was part of himself, and how could you forget that?

 

There was a creak and the door behind him opened. He took a deep breath and looked back to see one of the businessmen who'd boarded with his family in Basel. He was respectable enough but Thomas remembered he had a daughter and felt an almost overwhelming urge to throw himself from the train rather than get roped into a meal with her.  Unfortunately he needed the practice if he were to carry off his scheme and when the man tipped his hat and asked, inevitably, that Sir Thomas do them the honor of joining his family for dinner this evening, he shut his eyes and agreed.

\---

"Sir Thomas Sharpe?"

Thomas stood and proffered a hand, "Dr. Lefèvre, I trust you received my letter?" he said in the assured manner of the gentleman he was trying to come across as.

"Yes, how do you do?" The doctor looked uneasy and said in his precise Swiss accent, "Please, come into my office for a moment, I have some concerns I would like to share with you."

Thomas smiled, but remained standing, "With all due respect, Doctor, I am keen to see my sister. Perhaps afterward we could talk?"

"I saw in your letter it has been six years since you saw her last. You are a very young man, surely a half of an hour more will not seem like so much time."

There was a tightening in his chest as Thomas conceded, chagrined.

Once they were in the office, a small, somewhat drab room with many books and walls painted in varying shades of dull, yellowy-white, the doctor sat behind his desk and made a show of pulling a stack of papers toward him. He studied them for a few moments before he began. "Frankly, Sir Thomas, I am surprised to be discussing the release of the mademoiselle so soon," he said.

"So soon?" said Thomas, incredulous. "As you pointed out, Doctor, she has been here for six years.”

"Perhaps I should give you a review of the pertinent facts, you were so young when she arrived-"

"I remember it well enough," said Thomas, darkly.

The doctor's head drooped a little, chastised. "Yes, of course,” he said. “I did not mean… Well, the lady is in a fragile condition still, even so."

"Fragile? Lucille is one of the least fragile things I have ever seen. I would wager she’s more stable than I am.”

There was a pause in the conversation as the doctor seemed to consider something. "And do you wager much, Sir Thomas?"

"Excuse me?"

"Forgive me, I meant to inquire in a delicate way about your finances. You see, there is the matter of the unpaid bills. "

"Ah, I see,” Thomas said with a sigh. “You may forward them to Allerdale Hall, where I will see to them, as soon as my sister and I are settled there." That seemed to finish it about the money for the moment, satisfied, the doctor moved on.

"You did not say in your letter whether you had found a suitable nurse in England."

"Nurse, for Lucille? I think I can take care of my own sister."

"Sir Thomas, you cannot think to take her away without having secured a nurse, she is unwell. She cannot be left alone overmuch,” said the doctor. “She will need supervision of a kind that even a relative cannot hope to provide."

"I see." Sir Thomas seemed to think for a moment, his eyes narrowing. "I thank you for your advice, doctor," he said, standing. " I will make the necessary arrangements. If there is nothing else-"

"There is one more matter," said the doctor. "It was recommended in a letter from the English authorities that I remind you that since you are now of age, you are the legal guardian of Mademoiselle Sharpe. I urge you to consider her behavior carefully in the next few weeks, if she seems to be relapsing or despondent I think it may be in your best interests to secure her a place in a hospital closer to home." He said this solemnly, compassion in his voice. "You are a young man and her care will be a very great responsibility for you. I do not wish to be unkind but the burden of this kind of illness-"

"Doctor, I thank you for your words of caution. I assure you I will be watching my sister with the utmost care but I am afraid I must insist on being taken to her now. I have other engagements on the continent and a train to catch." He tried desperately to make his manner as imperious and aristocratic as any that could be seen in the drawing rooms of England, if that didn't get him out of this office, nothing would.

"Of course," said the doctor. "Mademoiselle Sharpe is being brought outside. I will take you to her." Relief filled his heart as Thomas followed the doctor along more off-white corridors and out to a grassy lawn overlooking a lake. 

There by the shore stood a lone figure in a sober black dress, holding an umbrella against the heat of the sun. He would have known her brown curls anywhere.

“Lucille,” he whispered. As if she sensed him nearing she turned to face him and the distance between them closed in an instant as he moved toward her in long strides and enfolded her in his arms, heedless of the doctor’s presence.

“Thomas,” she cried into his shoulder, and when she pulled back to look at him, her smile was heartbreaking. She reached up, touching his face, marveling at the changes wrought by six years apart. He’d gone from boy to man but in her eyes he was as perfect as he’d ever been.

“We have to go, Lucille,” he said loudly. “I have business ventures to attend to and we must catch the next train. The doctor has kindly had your bags packed and I have a carriage waiting.”

“Oh Thomas,” Lucille said again. She was quite overcome by his manner and not a little confused. He took her arm and they made their way to the drive, Thomas saying his goodbyes to Dr. Lefevre. She barely heard them.

When Thomas handed her up into the carriage she wouldn’t let go of his hand and he climbed in awkwardly, sitting next to her. He rapped the roof with his father’s walking stick and then as it set off he all but melted into Lucille’s arms. He lay his head on her breast and held her fast. It was difficult now that he was so tall, but Lucille held his shoulders and they rocked together just as they had when they were children.

"It's a good thing you taught me how to lie, my darling,” he said, breathlessly. “I don't think that man would ever have let me take you away from that awful place. I didn't have a plan at all, I had my name and my accent."

“If this is any indication, that’s all we’ll ever need,” she smiled. “You were quite imposing.” She was still tearful and now that he could look into her eyes he saw how she had changed. She was still Lucille, but there was desperation in her aspect, visible in the faint grayness under her eyes, that could only be accounted for by her stay in the institution. He had read about the things that went on in places like that. The “cures” being tried in places like Bedlam were barbaric. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind and returned his thoughts to their reunion.

“Channeling father, possibly,” he said. “The whole way here I thought of nothing but you. There were women on the train, tiresome women, old and young. They were always trying to get me to sit with them to dine, to take tea with a daughter or niece who had always just come out," he said in a tired voice but smiling as he looked into her eyes earnestly and more excited now. "I couldn't sit still for it. All I could think of was you. That soon I'd have you back, you, the only woman I need. We can go back together, we won't have to say who we are. You'll be my antidote to those pampered debs on their way home from Paris or Geneva, looking for one last chance to catch a man abroad. You can be my new bride and we can share a cabin, a table, a bed all the way to Calais."

This heartened Lucille, whose smile lit up her face. His boyish enthusiasm was infectious and she couldn’t have disagreed even if she had wanted to.

By this time they had arrived at the station and the driver came down to help with Lucille’s meagre belongings. The umbrella, an old suitcase and a wooden box about the size of a sewing basket. Thomas had left his things at the station and they retrieved them and boarded going straight to their sleeper car. They took turns helping each other out of hats and gloves and sat down on one of the beds. Thomas took her hand in his and was suddenly very grave when he said, “I knew you weren’t really mad, Lucille. I can only hope to make up for what’s happened to you. You only did what you had to do. I should have done it, I should have been braver. I’m so sorry. But we can go home now and everything will be better.”

 “Home,” she said, turning the word over in her mind. “Allerdale Hall,” she said slowly. “Have you been back?”

“Only briefly,” he said. “After school I wanted to come straight here but there were some things that needed to be taken care of. The house is in a state and there’s not much money for repairs. I thought of getting a job but I couldn’t wait any longer to see you.” At this last statement Lucille scoffed but made a gesture of dismissal and hugging him to her again.

“And I couldn’t wait to see you, I was so happy when they told me you were coming I cried for days. They thought it had upset me, that I didn’t want to leave.”

“You’ll never have to be apart from me again, Lucille,” he promised. She looked up into his handsome face and pressed her lips against his. He wasted no time, returning the kiss with fervor. The train lurched forward and they broke apart, staring at each other for a long while, sitting on the bed wrapped in each other’s arms.

“I want to memorize this face,” said Lucille. “You’ve become so handsome I can barely breathe.” At this Thomas reddened and smiled bashfully. “No, I mean it. I knew you would turn out to be good looking but this…”

“And you, Lucille, are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” There was a pause then as Lucille thought about something.

“Have you seen many?” she asked cautiously.

“Girls?” he asked, confused. “Oh, a few, the headmaster’s daughter, shop girls, the ones on the train. They were nothing to you.”

They settled on a neutral topic, having brought up his headmaster, he talked for a while about his education and his interest in engineering. “My little brother the tinkerer,” said Lucille with an indulgent smile.

They talked well into the evening and when it was time for bed, Thomas helped Lucille to undress to her shift and they lay down side by side, both exhausted from their reunion, and were asleep in minutes to the rocking of the train.

\---

“Didn’t they let you wear anything but black?” asked Thomas the next morning when Lucille was putting on her only other dress. It was similar to the one she’d had on yesterday and Thomas quickly stood from the bed where he’d been laying, watching her, to help her with the cuff buttons. He was wearing a long nightshirt against the cool of the early morning and changed into his suit as quickly as possible.

At breakfast in the dining car they were seated with an elderly couple well into their meals. The man was a count from France and he was happy enough to be seated with a baronet and his ‘wife’.

“Wife, you say?” said the countess, “but you look so alike."

They both smiled at this and Lucille said, "Yes, well, I think we _are_ distantly related. Second or third cousins."

"That's it my dear, third cousins I think." said Thomas.

“It will be a disappointment to the ladies on the train to find out you’re married,” said the count. “You were very much the topic of conversation at dinner last night, Madame Gilbert,” he indicated a coiffed and bejeweled lady sitting a few tables away, “saw you on the platform and was determined to have you for one of her daughters.”

They continued to chat, making up a story about lost luggage to cover Lucille’s unlikely attire. She was hardly dressed like the wife of a baronet in her rather drab black dress but she made up for it with her drawing room manners, which were a little rusty but had not been beaten out of her by the institution, Thomas was pleased to see.

\---

It was a full two days on the train to Calais, a further night spent in London in a small Hotel where they registered under a false name and another half day from London to Allerdale Hall.

As Thomas paid the driver and unlocked the front door, Lucille looked around the grounds. It was spring but it was cloudy and the crimson clay was wet from a rainstorm the previous evening. She bent and reached for a handful, squeezing it and staring at the cool clay as it oozed around her fingers. She almost didn’t hear Thomas come up behind her. “Lucille! You’ve ruined your gloves,” he said. “Come inside, I want to get in before the rain starts again.”

She followed Thomas into the house and he ushered her into the kitchen where he set about lighting the coal range.

“Where is Mrs. Beeton?” asked Lucille referring to the old housekeeper from when they were growing up.

“My darling, I had to let her go, all of the staff except Findlay, I’m afraid. I simply couldn’t afford to keep them,” said Thomas forlornly.

“Is it so bad?”

“I’m afraid so, my dear,” said Thomas coming to lean on the counter by her side as the kettle began to boil.

“We should arrange an appointment with father’s old solicitor in London next week. He’ll have some ideas for us. ”

“Alright,” said Thomas agreeably. “Right now though I only want to get you settled in,” he said smiling at her.

\---

Over the next few days Thomas and Lucille set about tidying the house as best they could. Exploring the attic they found the roof to be weak and leaky, the floorboards rotting in one wing of the house, and the wallpaper molding. This did not deter them, however. Lucille was delighted to find her childhood bedroom in good condition and moved her belongings there at once. She pilfered through her mother’s old dresses to find something to wear that was a little more suited to her station figuring she could update them with lace or by removing ruffles.

"What's in this wooden box?" Thomas asked when he brought her cases upstairs.

"It's my collection of specimens,” she replied. “The doctors were fools, they wanted me to take up an _unexciting_ hobby. To focus my "destructive" energy. Those were the exact words. I was meant to study Italian or draw bowls of fruit in pencil. They let me keep these though, I don't think they're unexciting at all."

He opened the box to peek inside and made a face. “Mmm, not my cup of tea,” he said, putting it down and turning to her.

“Speaking of which, let’s go down and I’ll make us some.” Lucille was getting good at the task having never done it before her time in the institution. She and Thomas settled on the sofa in the parlor and chatted for a time. After a while Lucille stood and went over to the piano. She played a few notes but found it was out of tune, the extremes of the weather having affected it badly.

“Did they let you play in the asylum?” asked Thomas.

“Yes, it was another of my healthy hobbies,” she smiled. She sat and started to play scales. Thomas came over and sat with her on the bench, leaning in to her shoulder and resting his head against hers.

“Do you remember this tune?” she asked and began to play an old lullaby, its sound haunting on the disused chords.

“Of course,” said Thomas in a whisper. She stopped playing and turned to him, taking his face in her hands.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, gazing into his eyes. She reached up to kiss him but Thomas pulled back.

“Should we? I mean, the doctor said you were ill.”

“If I was ill it was only for lack of being with you. You’re everything to me, Thomas. I’ve wanted you for so long,” she said, tears threatening to fall. “I’ve waited so long.”

“ _We’ve_ waited so long,” he said. “I missed you too, Lucille. Every time the other boys at school would talk about a girl they’d met on holiday or at a tea they thought to make me jealous. But all I could think was that I had something better than they did. I had you.”

“You always will,” she said and they kissed, slow and sweetly. His arms went to hold her and she shifted to accommodate him and the bench tipped them onto the rug, breaking them apart and causing both to laugh hysterically. When they had calmed down Lucille propped herself up on an elbow and leaned down to kiss him again as he lay staring up at her. Their mouths met in sudden passion and she started to unbutton Thomas’s waistcoat, pulling his shirt from his waistband. She smiled down at him when he drew a sharp breath as her hand ghosted over his cock when she went to unbutton the trousers.

“Right here?” said Thomas. “With mother watching?” he nodded at a tall painting of a severe woman all in black. There was something fearful in his eyes but Lucille just ran a hand through his hair, soothing him.

“Yes. I want her to see everything,” said Lucille, her face brightening with a devious smile.

\---

"I almost forgot. I have something for you, my darling,” said Thomas later as they lay on the floor gazing up into the rafters. “Actually I've had it with me since before I came to Switzerland. I thought I should wait and give it to you here, where it really means something."

He reached over her to drag his waistcoat nearer and drew out something from the breast pocket. It was a ruby red ring. She had seen it so many times, she could have drawn it in all its particulars even nearly a thousand miles away and with six years in between.

"Mother's ring," she whispered, turning large eyes up to meet his expectant face. There were tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips. She flung her arms around him.. He pried her arms from him only to grab her left hand and slide the ring onto her delicate third finger. 

“It’s yours now. You’re the lady of Allerdale Hall,” he said, his voice muffled by her shoulder as she hugged him again.

“I’ll never take it off.”

\---


	2. Chapter 2

Despite the cold of January creeping into the house, Thomas and Lucille spent the winter of 1886 wrapped in the warmth they found in each other. There was some discussion of moving to the town house but the lawyer had suggested selling it instead. Thomas and Lucille had agreed together that the ancestral lands were more important and that it would be easier to live without the expense of being in London. The Sharpe town house, though in a less popular district, had made them a tidy sum and it had been sufficient to pay for Thomas’s schooling and Lucille’s stay in the asylum.

Thomas had once expressed an interest in taking a job to make a living for the two of them but Lucille would hear none of it. He was a gentleman, she explained, and she wouldn’t have him marked by manual labor of any kind. He was perfect, his skin unmarred and she intended to keep it that way.

On the money they had left, the siblings could afford to stay for about a year at Allerdale Hall. Though frugal, Thomas and Lucille managed to set aside some money to pay for Thomas’s hobby, as Lucille called it. His machines were amusing to her and she gladly reused teabags in order to indulge him.

With no servants but Findlay, the Sharpes were easily able to keep their relationship a secret. Though the entire village nearby knew exactly who they were and what had transpired in the house seven years ago, Thomas and Lucille managed to receive civil discourse with them on their rare voyages into town. Those who remembered Lucille riding her pony on Crimson Peak remarked on what a pretty young lady she had become. Thomas too was remembered as a shy but inquisitive boy and several of the local ladies had noticed how handsome he had become.

None of this worried Lucille however. In the time since he had retrieved her from the asylum they’d made love practically every day and the idea that Thomas would ever stray from her, even in his mind was as unlikely as her mother coming back from the grave.

As spring and summer passed Thomas continued to tinker away at little projects on the library floor as Lucille played the piano and kept the house up as best as she could. By autumn, they knew it was time, the money wouldn’t last much longer.

\---

In the early spring of 1887, Thomas and Lucille sat in the office of a Mr. Gulliver, their family lawyer for the past twenty five years. He was a greying man, near fifty, with a kindly countenance. They had been in the wood paneled office for the better part of an hour discussing the financial particulars of the Sharpe estate and the options open to the siblings. They were now measuring out their movements in jewels pawned. It had taken two gold rings to pay for coal and food for the house this last winter and a silver necklace to get them to London.

"Let me be frank," Mr. Gulliver was saying, "To continue to make the mine pay and live the way your father was accustomed to, you'd need to earn a large fortune, in a hurry."

"And how do you earn a fortune in a hurry?" Lucille asked, with a wistful smile.

"You could marry. A lovely young woman like yourself would be a fine addition to any family. Sir Thomas, with your sister taken care of, you could sell up. Settle in town, maybe."

"Sell up?" asked Thomas tightly.

"After all we’ve discussed, I think it's probably for the best," said the lawyer.

"I don't think we could part with the house. It's all we have of the family name. It's been ours for centuries," said Thomas. "Besides that, there's still a lode of clay in the ground, it's only a matter of getting at it."

"But getting at it takes labour, and labour takes money."

"Yes, I understand that." Thomas paused for some time and turned to look at Lucille. "I think we should take some time to examine our options. I wouldn't want to be hasty."

"Yes." Lucille agreed. There was a ponderous look on her face however and she turned back to the lawyer and said, "If I were to want to marry… That is, we don't know anyone who will not remember the misfortunes of our family. I don't see how I would meet a man willing to take on the scandal."

Thomas was surprised and not a little worried. "Lucille?"

"I could provide some introductions, Lady Lucille,” said Mr. Gulliver. “Among the newer families in London I think you might have some luck. I can mention you to the Hargroves. I'm going to a party there later this week, in fact."

"And what do they do?"

"He's a merchant of textiles, imports from India." The lawyer looked up as if remembering something. "He has three sons. I will send a card to your hotel."

Thomas looked as though he was about to speak but Lucille cut him off.

"Thank you, Mr. Gulliver. We would be delighted to attend. We so seldom go to parties."

"Very good then,” he said. “I think that about finishes our business for the day. Shall I show you out?"

 ---

"Lucille, what were you thinking of, asking him to get us invited to that party?” Thomas had barely been able to contain himself and as soon as they were on the street he had turned to his sister immediately, grabbing her by the arm. “You can't be thinking of marrying! Do you know what would happen to us if you had a husband, what he would do? Is that what you want, another man all over you? I won't have it," said Thomas imperiously, a desperate look in his eyes.

"I wasn't thinking about me, brother dear. I was thinking about us. If _you_ were to marry, the lady in question would be the answer to all our problems."

"But I can't marry. Don't you see? I would have to...be...intimate with her. I won't do it," he declared.

"But that's the beauty of it. You would be the man,” said Lucille as if it was perfectly obvious. “Unlike the wife who cannot deny her husband, a man has every right to deny his wife."

"But any woman would want children, Lucille. How could I deny her that?"

"By remembering who you love, Thomas,” she said somewhat harshly. “You are mine. Besides, one doesn't only marry for children. We could find you a nice, sickly girl who hasn't the constitution for bearing them. Her father would be only too glad to have her off his hands. She won't think it strange in the slightest if you avoid her bed."

"And all the while we carry on, in the same house? She would find out."

"Not if we’re careful."

"Lucille, this is madness."

There was a sudden silent outrage in Lucille's eyes that swept over him like a tidal wave and he knew he had spoken out of turn.

"That's not what I meant, my darling. You know that. I wasn't thinking,” he said desperately. “Don't be cross with me, please."

“I can’t be cross with you. I never could,” said Lucille, softening.

Thomas took in what his sister was saying and looked off into the distance for some time before saying resignedly, “I just don’t see it working.”

“Leave that to me. All we have to do is stay together. Remember what I told you?” she asked.

“Never apart,” he whispered.

\---

Later that week, just in from the evening at past midnight, Lucille and Thomas entered their hotel suite. He helped her as always to remove her overcoat, hanging it on the hat rack and taking off his own. “She’s perfect. Exactly what I dreamed of. Miss Pamela Upton, age 34,” Lucille said, her voice lilting over the name in a sing song voice. “She’s even in a chair. No one would blame you for neglecting _that_ side of things.” She smiled, dismissively.

Thomas made only a thoughtful sound and sat down by the fire resting his chin in his hand. After a long while he said, “If I were to agree to this scheme… How do I go about it? Am I to act like a lovelorn swain, desperate for her hand?” He asked looking up at his sister and watching as she removed her wrap and garnet earrings. It was the last time she would wear them, they had discussed it and the sum to be had for them in a second hand jeweler’s would be covering the cost of the hotel bill. He watched her put them in their velvet box. His mother’s dress looked stark on her. Lucille, he had decided, was much better suited to deep jewel colors and as soon as he was able, he intended to cover her in a crimson dress.

“I think…” said Lucille, pondering for a while. “You just talk to her. We’ll go round for tea and you can listen to her prattle and interject with agreement every now and then. Her father was an industrialist, perhaps woo her with your engineering knowledge, only so much that it wouldn’t bore her of course.”

Thomas tsked, leaning back in the chair. “One day my darling, my boring engineering is going to save us. If only we had the money to keep us afloat while I figure a way to get the clay out of the ground.”

“If only. But we don’t,” she said, tapping the velvet box on the bureau. “She will give us time.”

“Isn’t it dishonest, to her I mean?” His voice was a bit uncertain.

“As long as you’re always nice to her she’ll never even know anything is wrong. You’re capable of niceness like no one I’ve ever seen. She’ll be content in the lie. We’ll be the only ones who know the truth. Where is the harm?”

Thomas grimaced. She sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms immediately came up to brace her against him. “You’re kind hearted, my dear, you always have been,” said Lucille. “But if we’re to survive you must be willing to be selfish sometimes. Selfish for us.”

They sat for a while with Lucille’s head on Thomas’s shoulder, both gazing into the flames. After some time Thomas sighed, closed his eyes against the heat of the fire and said, “That chair poses a problem. There are no bedrooms on the ground floor. And she’ll expect to sleep in the master bedroom anyway.”

“We’ll figure something out.” She smiled sweetly and turned his head toward her. Her lips met his softly. “Now,” she said with a glint in her eye Thomas had grown over the last year to know very well, “You got me into this corset, you’re going to have to get me out of it.”

“You were the one who dismissed the hotel maid,” he said, smirking. “We’re paying enough for these rooms, you ought to enjoy having servants for a while.”

“We’re paying for these rooms to make it look like we’re not desperate. I know two beds are a needless expense but we’re in London now, not on the continent, people know us, or know of us. And we have to have a respectable address so cards can come to us for social invitations,” she said, running her hands up and down his chest.

“This kind of talk isn’t exactly getting me in the mood, Lucille.”

“Well then,” she said sinking off his lap and onto her knees. “I’ll just have to change the subject.”


	3. Chapter 3

Lucille and Pamela Upton sat in the parlor of her well-appointed home. Lucille had been pleased to note that a butler had answered her ring and that a maid had come in to ask about tea. The more servants, the more money.

Pamela was a stout woman, in the wheelchair as always. She was plain of face and wore a sober but well-tailored blue dress with a cameo pinned at the neck.

They had chatted for a while about the party and the people she and Lucille had met there, and about the things that interested Pamela. After a while, Pamela said, “I can take you to meet mother if you like.”

“Oh?” said Lucille, doing her best to feign interest. “Is she at home?”

“Of course. She’s been bedridden for some time. Her heart gives her trouble,” said Pamela, sadly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Lucille, sympathetically. “Let’s visit her.”

“After that we can have tea,” said Pamela. There was an awkward pause, as if she were trying to get up the courage to say something else. Finally she asked, “Will your brother be joining us?”

“I expect so. He had an appointment to meet someone an old school friend he knew in town. An engineer. Thomas wanted to look round his workshop, that’s what he’s like,” said Lucille, getting up to follow Pamela out of the room and offering to push.

“I wish I knew him better,” said Pamela. “To tell you the truth…” she trailed off, unsure she should be sharing. “I like him better than I probably should. He would never be interested in me.”

“You might be surprised.”

“Oh?” she said, a glimmer of hope in her voice that Lucille couldn’t hide her smile upon hearing. “Thomas isn’t like other men. He doesn’t get distracted by physical traits. He’s more… cerebral.” She explained as they slowly made their way down the hall.

“Oh,” said Pamela and Lucille could just imagine her little brain racing over all the books she collected, all the philosophy Lucille knew Pamela had read. As a woman in a chair, all she could do or experience would have been through someone else writing about it. She needed one little push further, Lucille decided.

“And he loves books.” It wasn’t exactly true, but her brother was far from illiterate. He’d had the classics drilled into him like any other boy, he just chose to read about mechanics instead these days.

When they reached the end of the hall, Pamela wheeled herself into a dimly lit room.

“Mother?”

“Hmmm?” was the only response from the bed. Lucille peeked in and saw the old woman, older than even her own mother would have been had she lived until now. Her heart almost leapt into her throat at the sight. The woman was clearly on her death bed.

As she woke fully, the two younger women made some idle chat with the old lady and Lucille played the dutiful guest, inquiring as to her health, ensuring her she would be around for a long time to come and saying the types of things no one really means when they see a person in such a state.

Pamela however, seemed pleased and as they entered the drawing room for tea a while later she felt as though she had made a gentle, caring new friend.

 

As soon as they were settled in the drawing room and a servant had set the tea on a low table in front of them, the bell rang. The butler appeared a moment later and announced Thomas Sharpe’s name with the full and hearty fan fair befitting his title. This pleased Pamela greatly.

“Hello my darling,” he said to his sister bending down to kiss her cheek chastely. “And Miss Upton, I’m so glad to see you again,” he said, taking her proffered hand and kissing the back of it dutifully. After that, tea went swimmingly. Thomas was the perfect inquisitive gentleman and Lucille the polite and charming sister.

Tea at the Upton house became a regular event and within a week the Sharpes were coming around every afternoon. They made no other calls as Pamela and the mother seemed to have few friends. The Hargroves it had turned out, had been business acquaintances of her father owing to their offices having been nearby each other and the invitation Pamela had received was one of courtesy not to say charity, her father having passed some time ago. It was probably never intended that she would come.

Few friends meant little connections to society which suited the Sharpes well. There would be no vast network of people with whom to ingratiate themselves. No need to build up a reputation so that others would vouch for them when the time came to ask for Pamela’s hand. It also meant it was very unlikely that she would learn from someone the awful misfortune of the Sharpe family.

Over time, the conversations had at the Upton house covered a range of topics, Pamela had been carefully sheltered it seemed and was curious about the world. But she had not always been so alone. Her father had had many associates who had formed a social circle that had once thrived. Now everyone had moved or died off and Pamela and her mother were left to themselves. She was a woman who had at one time longed to travel and had wished she had been better educated but owing to her condition, she had been schooled at home. In turn, Thomas told her of his schooling, his trip abroad to bring home Lucille from her ‘finishing school’ and of Allerdale Hall of course.

Though she read plenty of books, some of them were doggerel, penny romances, the likes of which were typical to a woman of her years and no husband. But the more deeply Pamela believed in improbable love, the Sharpes figured, the more likely she would believe Thomas when the time came. He would also bring her little treats, like chocolates or cordial cherries.

One day, about three weeks after their meeting at Hargrove House, Thomas entered the drawing room at the Upton’s without his sister. The idea of being alone with him made Pamela blush, but he insisted it was alright, that Lucille was only feeling under the weather and that no one would gossip once he had said what he came to say.

This confused Pamela who said, “I’m not sure I understand.” Thomas crossed the room and knelt on the floor beside her chair.

“Pamela, while Lucille isn’t here, I feel I must speak to you,” he said. “Lucille and I leave for Cumberland shortly and I find I cannot pull myself away from London until I’ve spoken my mind. You see… I’ve grown so accustomed to your company I don’t think I can live without it.”

“Oh, Thomas,” she said smiling fondly, thinking he couldn’t possibly mean what he was saying, or what it seemed like he might be leading up to saying.

“Pamela, I came here today to ask you to come to Cumberland with me, to come to Allerdale Hall as my wife.” He stated it with a practiced apprehension in his voice, hoping to convey the idea that he had been expecting her to say no. She didn’t notice.

Her first reaction was to cry. She had always been practical. It had never occurred to her that a moment like this might arrive. “Do you mean it?” she asked, teary.

“Of course I do.”

“But Thomas, I-”

“Don’t cry, my darling,” he said, inwardly cringing. Lucille had told him to call Pamela that, assured him that it would have the same affect it had on her. It apparently did.

“Am I your darling Thomas?”

“Yes, of course. Couldn’t you tell? All the hours I’ve spent here with you have been leading up to this moment, when I can finally ask you to be mine.”

When she had calmed down, the particulars of her new situation occurred to the woman.

“But my chair, Thomas. You’ve told me about all the staircases at Allerdale…”

“We could make you a bedroom in the drawing room, perhaps,” said Thomas. “Lucille and I are never in there anyway.”

“Oh Thomas, you would be willing to go to the trouble for me?”

“Of course, Pamela. Anything you like,” he said. “What I mean is, don’t let a little thing like that keep you from marrying me.”

“It isn’t only that Thomas, I’m conscious of the fact that I’m too old for you.”

“But I don’t mind that at all, Pamela. We may be different in age, but I feel as if we know each other’s minds so well…” he trailed off, unsure of what to say next and hoping she would complete his sentence the way she often did.

“What would people say?”

“What people? Listen, are these the same people who pity you for your infirmity?”

“I suppose so,” she said.

“Then damn them!” said Thomas, eliciting a bit of a shock from her. “I’m sorry but I mean it. No one should interfere with your happiness. Our happiness,” he hastily corrected.

“Oh Thomas, we could be so happy together. I’d never give you the least trouble, I promise.”

“Then Pamela, make me happy. Marry me?”

“I will.”

\---

“Are you sure she’s coming into her money this year?” said Lucille. They were lying in sheets wet with the sweat of their lovemaking. Her arm was resting on his bare chest and he was playing with her hair.

“Yes. She’s already got the first banker’s draught. And as soon as her mother dies, she gets the rest of it.”

“And the old bat can’t have long.”

“No,” sighed Thomas. “I expect not. She seemed positively radiant when we told her the news. A bit stunned and suspicious of me at first, but I think Pamela’s happiness was enough to calm her worries.”

“You’re so good with her. One would think you really had some sort of feelings for her.”

“I don’t know that I don’t have _any_ feelings. But perhaps the feeling I get is more of a familial feeling. Almost like I’m her son.”

“She’s not that old,” said Lucille, laughing.

“No, but she’s always assuming the best of me, petting me like a real mother would.”

“And how would you know what a mother would do. Remember ours?”

“Yes, but I saw mothers at school. The other boys had very different mothers to ours.”

“I envy you that. I suppose I would have been educated at home should mother have lived,” said Lucille wistfully. “I would have missed you awfully.”

“Me too,” he said, sadly. “I suppose we missed each other anyway.”

“Yes, but you were protected, that’s all that matters.”

“And now I intend to protect you, Lucille. If I have to marry a crippled spinster to do it I will.”


End file.
